Hooked on the Boxer – Author Piper Rayne

Hooked on the Boxer

Who knew a bad boy could mend a broken heart?

What does a girl do after she discovers her fiancé is a cheating bastard?

In my case, I performed the ritual implosion of all scorned women. I drowned my sorrows in cases of white wine, wallowed in gallons of ice cream, and ignited a bonfire to burn away every damn remnant of his existence. Six months later, the only result was a permanent impression of my ass on the couch.

Adventure Dating my friends dared.
A new and exciting opportunity they said.

I thought they were crazy, but I’m not one to back down from a challenge, so I signed up for the entire four-week deal.

That’s where I saw HIM. Lucas Cummings. He isn’t the classic rich boy I usually end up with. The one whose idea of working up a sweat is waiting for his margarita to be served beachside. Nope. He’s a rough and tough bad boy that all fathers warn their daughters about. You know the type. Cocky swagger, chiseled jaw—the ‘V’.

SOLD, I said to myself, until I discovered he was so much more than just a BOXER.

Left Hook.
Right to the heart.

** Note: This book was previous titled "The Boxer". Same great story with a fresh new look.**

Read the Excerpt

Then, out of the blue, with a group of people following him, Lucas slinks under the last rope and I stand there speechless as he approaches me.

“I’m going to run into the shower,” he says as I focus on the cut, wondering if my lips will heal it. Girls hover behind him, as do guys, waiting for his attention.

“Okay.”

He steps closer, and Lennon backs up while Whitney stands closer. Lucas’s eyes shift toward Whit for a second and he must notice Cole. He extends his hand toward Cole, and I miss his attention already. Seriously, am I this horny?

“Hey. Cole, right?” he asks.

Cole steps forward, shaking his hand. “Yeah, great fight.”

“Thanks. Hayes is a son of a bitch, but maybe tonight was his off night.”

“Or you’re a badass,” Lennon chimes in and Lucas’ vision shifts to her.

He smiles. “You were my own little cheerleader.” He puts his hand out in front of her. “Lucas.”

“Lennon.” She hip-checks me, and since I have no muscle holding my body up at the moment, I knock into Whit, who falls into Cole, a weight solid enough to hold us. “I’m this one’s friend.”

Their hands drop and I get Lucas’ solo attention again, and my stomach grows giddy. “I hope she has room for one more friend,” he says, and a growl comes out of Whitney’s mouth while Lennon rears her head back in laughter.

“Let’s put it this way, Lucas…” Lennon continues overriding the conversation.

Again, his eyes shift to her. “Don’t tell me the list is full,” he says, with mock indignation.

“She’s scratching names off the list for you, buddy,” Lennon says, and then a guy walks by, and her eyes follow him like a dog chasing a butterfly. “See you girls later.” She raises her hand, and another huff leaves Whitney’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Lucas says, holding his hand out to her.

She stares down at it and back up to him and then back to his hand. Cole nudges her, and she eventually shakes his hand.

“I’m Whitney, her conscience for tonight.” She nods her head to the side at me.

I laugh, and his eyes flicker to me. Cole wraps his arms around his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“Excuse us, Lucas. My girlfriend needs to remember she’s not Tahlia’s mother.”

The two of them leave even with Whitney’s reservations. I swear I can feel her eyes in the back of my head.

“Tahlia, huh?” Lucas asks, and I’m so busy examining the injuries on his beautiful face, I forget he’s speaking to me until he touches my shoulder. Like a jolt of electricity, I’m alert.

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, focusing on his beautiful green eyes staring right back at me.

“Your name, Tahlia, it’s beautiful,” he says and the way he says my name is so soft and gentle, I’m not as concerned about going home with him.

Then someone knocks into me, pushing me forward, and I knock into him. The sweat still trickling down his chest makes my hands slide down his sculpted abs until the front of my hand grazes the front of his shorts and I’m pretty sure the half-hard thing I just felt is his dick. Unable to step back because of the people wanting to talk to him, I try to remove myself, but I’m locked.

​​​​He glances down at me, a cocky smile in place. “All you had to do was ask. I’d never turn down a hand job.”

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